We continue to say that every day is a day farther from Ky, his memory is rougher, and it's harder to remember. It's true in one sense, but in another it's:
Actually one day closer.
I got scared of losing Shay one night and was awake for a while because of it. I was unable to fully rest until I realized that no matter what happens to any of the important people in my life, I'm one day closer to seeing them in paradise.
When I realize there's no safe zone-- 2nd trimester, 39 weeks, birth, or 3 months old-- I can rely on that same truth. What happens here is short and momentary.
"Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." James 4
But what happens in heaven is eternal.
Though life is short, a breath, a mist, it feels like there's alot of waiting. Waiting to see Ky, to have children on earth, to heal, to figure out what your (my) body's doing, waiting for something else to define your story, waiting for a different season... and the waiting feels pretty long right now.
But it seems like God doesn't want us living in the future, or for the future. He reminds us that we aren't supposed to worry even about tomorrow because "each day has enough trouble of its own." We are only supposed to ask for our "daily" bread.
I have read that one man who lost his 3 yr old son found a lot of comfort in identifying with Israelites in the desert. He knew God would rain manna from heaven "to supply all your needs" (Phil. 4), but only enough for each day or hour. Jesus says He is the "bread from heaven" coming down to sustain forever and that He longs to show grace to us.
When I'm frustrated with our story, I remember it's not my story to write. There are signs of redemption seen in many sad stories, refining through fire and teaching us that his grace.is.sufficient. SUFFICIENT! We have manna for the moment and grace for the hour.
And that's fine because we don't even know what tomorrow holds.